The Black Mirror
by nicevenn
Summary: "When will you be able to look in the mirror again, and not feel guilt?" – "Not until you can look me in the eyes without fear." Au after OotP. Translation of Schwarzer Spiegel. Warnings: non-con, angst, dark themes
1. The Night in the Chapel  Part I

*This is a translation of Maxine's Schwarzer Spiegel. The German original is here: http:/ www. fanfiktion. de /s/40aa633b000009d3067007d0 (without spaces)

Timeline: 6 years post-Hogwarts (begun in 2004, so not compliant with HBP or DH)

Warnings: Rape/non-con, dark themes, violence, angst.

Summary: "When will you be able to look in the mirror again, and not feel guilt?" – "Not until you can look me in the eyes without fear."

Translator's note: This is one of my all-time favorite H/D fics, and I'm happy to be able to share it with you. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did. The author and I appreciate your feedback.

***

Black mirror,  
I no longer recognize myself in you.  
All I see is his eyes,  
through which I can glimpse  
into the depths of his soul.  
They reflect the horror  
that he suffered because of me.  
And I burn  
in the purgatory of guilt.

***

"The question isn't whether I can forgive you,  
but whether you can forgive yourself."

**  
The Black Mirror**

It was unbearably hot. The tight fabric of his Auror uniform clung to his body as he fought his way through the thicket. Twigs lashed at his face and left bloody stripes on his cheeks. His wheezing breath and the sound of branches breaking beneath his feet sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the Forbidden Forest.

Barely any moonlight passed through the dense forest canopy. He couldn't see much anyway. It seemed like an eternity since he'd lost his glasses somewhere in the thick underwood. For a moment, a feeling of utter helplessness had rolled over him, and he had almost given up. But in a last act of desperation, he had suppressed his panic and continued running.

He didn't know where he was running to. He had lost his sense of direction a long while ago. He cast a quick look over his shoulder to check if they were still following him. Although he saw nothing but blurred darkness, he could feel their presence. They were there, and they were catching up. Slowly and steadily.

He resisted the urge to turn around and cast a few curses into that terrible, all-consuming darkness. He knew all too well that it wouldn't get him anywhere. Maybe, if luck was on his side, he would get one of them. But doing so would only point them in his direction. He thought he heard quiet laughter, as if it were affirming his thoughts. Yet he could not tell which direction it came from.

As he picked up his pace again, the fear for Ginny and Terry's safety, which he had so far been able to push to the back of his mind, resurfaced. He prayed in earnest that both of the other Aurors on his team, who had accompanied him on this mission, had made it back safely. Maybe they would be able to get help, should he fall into the hands of the Death Eaters. He knew that he couldn't avert the inevitable. He could only draw it out. It was almost like a game. It was a horrible game they were playing with him, chasing him through the Forbidden Forest like a predator hunting its prey.

Suddenly, he stopped short and squinted. A light seemed to be shining through the shrubbery, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Had he already made it to the edge of the forest? Was the light was coming from Hagrid's hut?

It was only a few steps away. A spark of hope rose inside him. Was he only seconds away from safety? Or was it…?

He didn't get to complete the thought. A hex struck him hard on the back and knocked him to the ground. He never even felt the impact.

*****

He regained consciousness to find every bone in his body aching. He was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against a wall. His hands were bound. It smelled musty. Cold wetness hung in the air and seeped through to his very bones. Blinking, he opened his eyes and tried to identify his surroundings.

The room in which he found himself was small and illuminated by the soft light of a lantern. It took him a moment to become accustomed to the brightness, and a while longer to reach the painful realization that he hadn't landed in Hagrid's hut.

They'd hauled him to an old chapel in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Only the stone altar appeared to have survived the ravages of time. Everything else was weathered. Water dripped quietly from the walls.

His pursuers were there. At first, only an ill-defined, threatening black mass that quietly came upon him. Then, gradually, their faces began to assume features. They weren't wearing hoods. He recognized only four of them.

Antonin Dolohov. Augustus Rookwood. He had seen their pictures in the newspapers often since their escape from Azkaban. Their features seemed to have burned themselves into his memory.

Thomas Avery. Timothy Nott. Their mouths twisted into derisive grins. Their faces almost like masks.

"It looks like a very special fish has got caught in our net this time," Avery said cynically as he took another step towards him. "Welcome to hell, Harry Potter."

It wasn't easy to stand up with aching limbs and his hands tied behind his back. Only on the second try did it work. They didn't attempt to stop him, preferring to watch silently as he struggled. Shivering, he pressed himself back against the wall and looked past Avery to the door, where another Death Eater had just emerged. He was younger than the others. Damp, blond strands clung to his forehead. Harry felt something tighten inside him. He held the blank, emotionless gaze of those grey eyes for only a few seconds before turning his head. He couldn't let them notice anything. He couldn't betray Malfoy.

Harry had never questioned that Draco Malfoy would someday join Voldemort. His path as a Death Eater seemed to have been laid out before him. But then the day had come when Harry's view of the world had begun to waver. The fact that the former Slytherin, following the as-of-yet unexplained death of his father, had switched sides and begun working as a spy for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix had thrown Harry completely off course. Malfoy didn't talk much when they met at the Order's headquarters, which was seldom enough. They had both grown up, and yet not much had changed between them since they had graduated from Hogwarts. They could not overcome their old animosity as much as the distrust that hung between them. Harry had often asked himself why Dumbledore was so sure that Malfoy could really be trusted. Because there was no question that the Headmaster trusted him.

"What are you going to do to me?" With effort, he managed to keep his voice from trembling. He couldn't let them know that he was gripped by fear. He wouldn't beg for mercy, that much was certain.

"What are we going to do to you?" Rookwood grinned sadistically. His disparaging, slightly feverish gaze slid down Harry's body. "We will take our revenge— for you and the Order always managing to thwart the Dark Lord's plans." His smile faded. Hatred blazed in his eyes.

Harry took in the sight of Rookwood's repulsive, pox-scarred face with a feigned calmness that was difficult to uphold. A few days earlier, Voldemort had been forced to endure bitter defeat against Dumbledore and the Members of the Order. The battle had taken place in the Forbidden Forest. Ginny, Terry, and he had been sent back to search for tracks.

"Are you going to kill me?" Harry was surprised that he had managed to remain composed as the question left his lips. The mustiness of the chapel was nauseating.

"You can be sure of that," Dolohov said in a voice that resonated with dark amusement. His skin was as sallow as a corpse's. "But before we get to that, I have a different sort of entertainment in mind…" His stinking breath grazed Harry's face, whereupon he closed his eyes in disgust.

"Undress him!" Dolohov barked.

Harry felt as if someone had stepped on his stomach. Dolohov's laugh sounded diabolical, and in his eyes lay unconcealed lust. The other Death Eaters laughed softly. Horror flooded over Harry like a cold wave. He couldn't do anything to stop it.

*****

Fuck, fuck, fuck! His expression may have appeared emotionless, but inside Draco was in a state of turmoil. He'd been wracking his brains for minutes now, but still he couldn't figure out a way to get Potter of this unpleasant situation without blowing his cover, which would mean certain death. Why had Fudge sent the three young Aurors out into the Forbidden Forest alone? That man was incompetence personified. A weakened Dark Lord did not make the other Death Eaters any less dangerous.

He could see the fear on Potter's face, even though the other man tried to hide it. That striking face suddenly looked so vulnerable without its glasses. Draco felt something akin to pity stir inside him. Granted, he had wished the plague on Harry many times in the past. But to be raped by several Death Eaters—that he wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy. He shuddered, remembering that Death Eaters didn't play nice with their victims.

As Draco continued to think feverishly, Timothy Nott robbed Harry of his clothing with a casual wave of his wand and a cold laugh. Draco blinked repeatedly— he didn't want to look. He didn't want to add to Potter's humiliation. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the breathtaking sight of that naked body.

Potter may have been small and scrawny back in school, but now the rigorous physical training of the Auror Academy was apparent in the well-built form of the man standing before him. The coldness of the chapel had raised the fine hairs covering his skin. Draco licked his lips. He felt the burning need to touch that skin rise inside him. His fingers prickled. He could hardly retain his sanity. He wanted Harry, had always wanted him. The striking sight before his eyes made him realize that he could no longer deny it.

Harry held his head straight and didn't let his adversaries out of his sight for one second. Even under the present circumstances, he still managed to preserve his remaining dignity. Draco couldn't help but admire him for it.

"Is that all you've got?" The former Gryffindor's voice sounded cool and controlled. Apparently, he didn't want to make things too easy for them. He wanted to prove that he wouldn't be broken that easily.

The corners of Rookwood's mouth curved upwards in amusement. "That was only the beginning," he chortled. "Now, you have to choose."

"Choose what?" Harry asked.

The Death Eater with the pox-scarred face came up very close to Harry and stroked his bare chest almost gently. Harry drew back against the damp wall. His lips quivered slightly, and his eyes were wide. Draco felt a surge of rage inside him, but he forced himself to stay calm. There was nothing he could do for Potter at the moment.

Rookwood's eyes flashed with pleasure. "You may choose, which one of us gets to take you," he whispered in his ear. "And the others will watch."

Draco saw Harry become a hint paler than he had already been. He began to tremble slightly, although his posture remained remarkably straight. He looked from one of them to another, meeting Draco's gaze for a second. Not a sound escaped his lips. Apparently, Rookwood's pronouncement had rendered him incapable of speech.

"Choose quickly, handsome. Or else we'll take turns with you."

Cold laughter filled the small room and echoed off the stone walls. Draco could see the horror flare in Harry's eyes, and the sight brought a stab pain to his gut. The seconds stretched on. Harry cleared his throat, but his answer was nothing more than a quiet murmur.

"You'll have to speak more clearly, or we won't be able to understand you." Rookwood was clearly enjoying himself. Draco cursed him silently.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "I choose Malfoy," he said loudly, and looked away. His cheeks were flushed.

A quiet muttering rose among the Death Eaters. Rookwood gave a nasty laugh.

Draco stood petrified with horror. His heart was racing. He felt as if someone had pulled the ground from beneath his feet. Everything began to sway. He couldn't stop his thoughts from whirling inside his head. He hardly noticed that the other Death Eaters were watching him expectantly.

"An excellent choice," said Dolohov, grinning. "It's about time that the boy acquired some… practical experience." He clapped Draco encouragingly on the shoulder, and Draco tensed. "Just don't be too gentle with him!" Dolohov added.

Draco's mouth felt dry, as if he hadn't drunk anything in days. There was no escaping this, either for him, or for Potter. He swallowed repeatedly as he stepped out of the half circle of Death Eaters and approached Harry with trembling knees. He tried to look only at the other man's face. Panic flickered in Harry's eyes.


	2. The Night in the Chapel  Part II

-#-

"When will you be able to look in the mirror again, and not feel guilt?"  
"Not until you can look me in the eyes without fear."

-#-

He could feel the piercing looks of the other Death Eaters behind him. There wasn't a sound to be heard, save for the blood rushing in his ears and the quiet dripping of water. An unnatural silence came upon the old chapel. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Draco knew that he couldn't allow himself to hesitate for even a second, to show even the smallest sign of fear. But it was difficult. His heart pounded against his ribs. One more step, and he would have Harry. He laid his hands on the other man's shoulders and pushed up him against the wall with his own body, taking care to hide Harry's nakedness from the others' ravenous gazes. The heat of Harry's bare skin electrified his fingers and sent sparks  
coursing through his veins. Oh, how he had longed to possess that skin. But the price he had to pay for it was high.

Harry cringed, either from Draco's touch or the coldness of the wall against his back, but he didn't flinch. He met Draco's gaze bravely. Mixed in with the fear in those remarkable green eyes was a hint of guilt. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He bit his lip, which thereupon finally stopped quivering.

Draco guessed the words more than he actually heard them. Draco dragged his tongue along the slender neck that presented itself. The absorbing scent of musk that rose from the tanned skin fogged his mind. "You're the last one here who should have to be sorry for anything," he breathed in Harry's ear. His voice sounded unusually hoarse. "I hope, only for your sake, that you've made the right choice."

Harry made an indefinable noise and closed his eyes. "Better you than one of them," he ground out with difficulty, turning his head to the side to give Draco's tongue more space.

Draco didn't answer. Harry's hot breath stroking his cheek caused a fluttering sensation in his belly. He glided his hands over Harry's body, trying to display what small amount of tenderness he could get away with. His fingernails scratched fine red marks on the otherwise flawless skin. His teeth sank playfully into the curve of Harry's neck, leaving behind dark marks that labeled him as his property.

He heard Harry gasp softly as he pinched his nipples with soft force, stimulating the sensitive skin to the extreme. Surprised, he noticed that his ministrations were leaving his nemesis anything but cold. As much as Harry tried to fight his increasing arousal, as much as he would have liked to rebel against it, he was defenseless against his body's reaction. It was a battle he couldn't win.

Draco felt something hard pressing against his own erection, and saw the shame and humiliation burning in Harry's eyes. It unsettled him deeply. In that moment, it became clear to him that there were ways and means of breaking Harry Potter, of turning his innermost self inside out and leaving it visible to everyone. A fact that shocked Draco. Somehow, he had always considered Harry relatively invincible, But Harry wouldn't come out of this unharmed.

"Get on with it, Malfoy!" Dolohov's bored voice tore him out of his thoughts, leaving him wincing as if he'd been hit. "Take him already. And take him hard." The black mass of Death Eaters muttered in agreement, a sound that seemed to come from far away.

The feeling of powerlessness was nearly driving him out of his mind. He had to give up hope. It was too late; no one would come and save the day. His insides struggled against the thought of having to force himself on Harry, but he  
had no other choice. He knew that if he was too gentle with Harry, Rookwood would follow through on his sick promise and turn Potter over to the horde of Death Eaters. Draco wouldn't let it come to that. It was enough that they were allowed to watch.

He loosened Harry's bonds and pushed him roughly to the ground. Harry didn't resist, nor did he make any effort to break his fall. Apparently he had realized that the situation was hopeless, and was resigned to his fate.

Draco's throat tightened as he saw the naked young man lying prone on the cold stones, his whole body shaking. Completely at Draco's mercy. The thought aroused him, even though he didn't want it to.

No sound came from Harry's lips. His eyes were tightly shut. Draco could tell by the way his jawbone jutted outward that he had clenched his teeth. He felt an urge to push the moist strands of hair away from Harry's face, but something held him back. Gentle gestures weren't called for right now. They would only show the others that he had feelings he wasn't allowed to have.

"Try to relax. It won't hurt as much, then," he murmured softly as he kneeled over him and unzipped his trousers. Torn between desire and reluctance, he parted the lean thighs. Then, after taking one last deep breath, he thrust in.

Myriad sensations assailed him all at once; the flood washed every single rational thought away with it. Only as if through a haze did he notice how the body beneath him stiffened under his forceful penetration, the muscles cramping. Harry gasped for air and arched his back. His fingernails made a scraping noise as his hands clawed at the cold, wet floor.

Draco didn't know what had come over him. It was all happening way too fast. There was no time to react. He lost control of himself, realising that he could no longer hold back as the ecstasy took over. His body wasn't betraying only him, it was betraying them both. And Harry was the one who would suffer for it. Too long had Draco yearned for the exhilarating tightness that surrounded him. Too long had he been forced to do without.

For the first time that night, he forgot about Harry's pain, forgot about the Death Eaters that were mute witnesses to this perverted act. He seized the Auror's shoulders in a firm grip. Again and again he drove into that desirable body, now streaming with sweat. Every single thrust brought him closer to the edge of insanity. And he enjoyed it. He didn't care that the hard stone floor was chafing Harry's bare skin bloody. Didn't hear the suppressed cries of pain. Stars began to dance before his eyes, letting him forget the world around him. Groaning, he climaxed and then collapsed, exhausted onto Harry's back.

Slowly the fog in his head began to clear. With the last reserves of his strength, he lifted himself off Harry's maltreated, sperm-and-blood-soiled body and buttoned up his trousers. As if in a trance, he unfastened his Death Eater cloak and used it to cover Harry's naked form. They had seen enough. The show was over.

He crouched next to Harry on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. His body was heavy, and his mind was numb. The sight of Harry didn't allow him to suppress his guilt any longer—it surrounded him full-force, burned him from within. Harry was resting his head on his forearm, and couldn't seem to stop trembling. Draco didn't dare touch him, although he would have liked to stroke his back soothingly. He was afraid that he would only make things worse by doing so.

He lifted his eyes and looked directly at the lewd, grinning faces of the Death Eaters. For a moment, no one said a word. It was Rookwood who broke the silence. "Welcome among our ranks," he said quietly with a devilish smile. "Now, you are truly one of us."

He offered Draco his hand, but Draco didn't take it. What he wanted was to cover his ears, to not hear or see anything. He felt a helpless rage gathering inside him and beginning to break its way inexorably towards the surface. He felt nothing but a fervent wish to inflict horrific acts of torture on all of them, to shoot the Cruciatus Curse wildly at them. Slowly—and without Rookwood's help—he lifted himself from the ground. Yet before he could reach for his wand, all hell broke loose.

Aurors stormed into the chapel without warning, taking the Death Eaters completely by surprise. Apparently, Ginny and Terry had been able to escape the Forbidden Forest and alert the Order. Raging cries resounded through the old walls. Curses flew this way and that, bouncing off the walls.

Draco didn't have to think long. He ducked his way under the curses, grabbed the softly groaning Harry under the arm in a firm grip, and pulled him out of the tangle of spells and into an isolated corner of the room. Harry didn't protest. In his eyes, there was an emptiness so frightening that Draco had to look away. Guilt ate away mercilessly at his insides, and for a moment, he was afraid he'd throw up. He tried not to think about what had happened shortly before. About what he had done. But the nausea wouldn't go away.

A few minutes later—which seemed like hours to Draco—the fight was over. The sickening smell of scorched flesh filled the air. Some of the Death Eaters had been hit by the Aurors' stunning spells and now lay on the ground with obscenely twisted limbs. The majority of them had been able to flee through the back door. Agitated, he looked at the worried faces of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, and Ginny Weasley, who were approaching them quickly. Ginny paled at the sight of Harry, covering her mouth with her hand.

"What happened to him?" Lupin demanded as he crouched down next to Harry and touched his shoulder. Harry flinched, but didn't struggle.

Draco's stomach clenched at Harry's reaction. He wanted to open his mouth and say something, but the words wouldn't come past his lips. A sickening feeling of disgust choked him, left him coughing and brought tears to his eyes.

"Dammit!" Ginny's voice sounded panicked. She gripped Harry's shoulders and shook him. "Say something already!"

Draco couldn't take any more. He pushed Ginny away roughly, ran outside and threw up in the bushes. His body shook with disgust—it didn't want to stop, not until his stomach was at last empty. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. The ground beneath his feet seemed to spin, making him stagger as he lost his footing.

Sounds of battle came towards him from somewhere in the darkness. It seemed that other Aurors had followed the fleeing Death Eaters and found them. A light wind had risen, blowing at the sweat-soaked hair that stuck to his forehead. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. Harry's bewitching scent still clung to the fabric. A lark began to sing in the distance.

Lupin, Tonks, and Ginny exited the chapel. Near them, on a stretcher that Lupin directed with his wand, lay Harry, still covered with the black cloak. His eyes had closed in the meantime, and he was pale as death.

Draco felt dizzy again, and there was nothing he could hold on to. It was a short, desperate moment in which he wished for nothing more than death.

Nymphadora Tonks'eyes held a look of sympathy, but there was nothing she could do for him—officially, he was a Death Eater and an enemy of the Order. "See to it that you get out of here as quickly as possible," she muttered softly, before she turned around and disappeared into the darkness along with Harry and the other Aurors.

He was oblivious to her words. Time and space seemed to have become worthless. Hours went by while he lay on his back on the damp forest floor and stared into the ceiling of dense leaves, through which the first pale light of day was slowly beginning to shine. But the terrible burn of guilt inside him wouldn't abate.

Tbc...


End file.
